Читать книгу One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors - Пенни Джордан, Anne Mather - Страница 12

FAT CHANCE, thought Rosa on Friday morning, having spent yet another day watching the rain. She had borrowed a coat from Mrs Ferguson and gone out for a while on Thursday afternoon, but it hadn’t been much fun. The rain had been bad enough, but the wind had been unforgiving. It had torn back the hood of her coat and had left her hair at the mercy of the weather.

She’d even made another attempt to read Liam’s book, and had been enjoying it until Luther Killian said something that Liam himself might say. It had brought back the memory of their encounter in all its disturbing detail, and she’d had to put the book aside and do something else.

Looking out of her window now, Rosa saw that it was going to be another wasted day. The wind hardly seemed to have eased at all, and although the rain seemed lighter, it was still coming down.

She could see the harbour from her window, the small boats that were moored there straining on their lines. No doubt the fishermen whose boats they were, were cursing, too. At least her incarceration didn’t affect her livelihood.

Or Sophie’s, she thought uneasily. But her sister would be all right, she assured herself. She was probably sitting in some luxury hotel at this moment, having a late breakfast with this man she’d taken off with. Okay, he wasn’t Liam Jameson. But perhaps he’d told her that he was. Yet somehow she knew Sophie was too savvy to be taken in like that.

So where was she? Although Rosa was fairly sure Liam didn’t know, perhaps he might have an idea. Anything was better than sitting here, twiddling her thumbs.

She shook her head impatiently, aware that she was only looking for excuses to go and see him again. After all, whatever happened, her mother expected her to do it. Predictably, it was the first thing she’d asked Rosa when she’d phoned home the previous evening.

‘But why haven’t you seen him?’ she’d demanded, and Rosa had explained about the storm. Then she’d hurried on and asked if Mrs Chantry had heard from Sophie—which she hadn’t—to avoid the comeback. After all, it was her sister who was supposed to be in trouble here, not her.

Personally, Rosa thought her sister was keeping quiet deliberately. Now that she’d alerted them to the fact that she could phone, she was probably afraid they’d trace her call. Which left Rosa with the unenviable task of finding another way to locate her.

Her mother was woefully ignorant of her elder daughter’s circumstances, however. ‘Surely there must be some other way to get back to the mainland?’ she’d protested, when Rosa had told her that the ferries were suspended until further notice. ‘What about aeroplanes? They’re not grounded, are they? Or you could find another boat.’

Rosa had been stunned at her foolishness. ‘There’s no airport on Kilfoil, Mum,’ she’d told her frustratedly. ‘And what other boat would you suggest? A fishing trawler, perhaps?’

Mrs Chantry had tutted impatiently. ‘So you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do until the ferries start running again?’

‘As far as getting off the island is concerned, yes,’ said Rosa shortly. ‘Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do.’

But was that strictly true? Rosa asked herself now, aware that the knowledge that Liam was just a dozen miles away was some compensation. If the ferries had been running she’d have been several hundred miles away by now, and any chance of seeing him again would have been denied her.

She frowned. Well, she couldn’t stay in her room all day. She’d had her breakfast, and once again the books she’d bought held no appeal. There must be some other way she could get out to the castle, she thought, her pulse quickening at the thought. At least it would give her something to do. Even if that old grouse Sam Devlin refused to let her in.

Mrs Ferguson was dusting the sitting room when she went downstairs and, feeling a little awkward, Rosa stopped in the doorway. ‘Um—I was wondering,’ she said, and the landlady looked up expectantly. ‘I was wondering if there was a car I could hire for the day.’

‘Do you not know McAllister’s number?’ The woman frowned and put her duster aside. ‘I think I’ve got it here somewhere—’

‘No.’ Rosa interrupted her, and when the landlady halted uncertainly, she added, ‘I didn’t mean a taxi, Mrs Ferguson. I wondered if there was a car I could hire to drive myself.’

The woman frowned. ‘Well, it’s not much of a day for sightseeing.’

‘I know that.’ Rosa sighed. ‘As a matter of fact, I’d like to drive over to see Mr Jameson again. There—er—there’s something I forgot to ask him.’

‘Ah.’ Mrs Ferguson nodded. ‘And you’re not keen to have old McAllister drive you, is that it?’

‘Well…’

Rosa felt her face turn red, but the landlady was smiling. ‘Yes, I can see you’re not impressed with his driving, lassie.’ She laughed. ‘I have to admit, I’d think twice about getting in his vehicle myself.’

Rosa relaxed. ‘So—er—is there a car I could hire?’ she asked hopefully. ‘I’m willing to pay.’

‘Och, you can take my car, Miss Chantry. It hardly gets used, anyway. It’s not very grand, mind you, but it’s roadworthy.’

Rosa gasped. ‘Oh, that would be wonderful!’

Mrs Ferguson laughed again. ‘Don’t say that until you’ve seen it, lassie,’ she advised. ‘Come along. I’ll show you where I keep it.’

The car, an ancient Ford, was kept in a shed at the back of the guesthouse, and Rosa saw at once that the landlady hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said it wasn’t very grand. It had to be at least twenty years old, and was covered in dust into the bargain. Mrs Ferguson had to wipe away a handful of spiders’ webs before she could open the door.

But the engine started after only a couple of hiccoughs, and Rosa stepped aside as the woman reversed it out onto the street. One good thing—the rain quickly cleared the dust from the chassis, and Rosa saw that the wipers worked. All in all, it was exactly what she needed, and she couldn’t thank the landlady enough.

‘Och, it’s nothing,’ said Mrs Ferguson, surrendering the driving seat to her guest and stepping back into the shelter of the shed, out of the rain. ‘You drive carefully, now. The roads can be treacherous in the wet. I wouldn’t like you to go skidding into a bog.’

Rosa thought she wouldn’t like that, either, but she refused to be daunted. She couldn’t be a worse driver than old McAllister if she tried. And there was no hurry. If she took all morning to get there, it wouldn’t matter.

The first indication that driving Mrs Ferguson’s car wasn’t going to be a sinecure came when Rosa reached the first corner and tried to turn. The wheel was like a dead weight in her hands, and she realised that it had no power steering. Of course, she thought impatiently, wrenching the car round manually. The installation of power steering in small cars like this was a comparatively recent innovation.

It made driving much harder, and her arms were aching by the time she’d negotiated the twists and turns down to the harbour. It was easier once she was driving up the road out of the village, but she wasn’t looking forward to the journey across that lonely stretch of moor.

The rain hindered visibility, too, and once or twice she was sure she saw ghostly figures rising out of the mist. But it was only the skeletal trunks of trees worn bare by the winds that raked the boggy scrubland. Nevertheless, she was glad she didn’t have to drive across here in the dark.

At last she reached the road that wound down into the glen where Kilfoil Castle was situated. She couldn’t see the castle, of course. The driving rain made that impossible. But now and then she glimpsed a farmhouse, and the unmistakable presence of livestock. She even saw a farmer herding some cows into a barn.

She relaxed. She’d made it. The only problem now was getting in to see Liam himself. She had the feeling Sam wouldn’t be too pleased when she presented herself at the door. But he must know she hadn’t left the island. Surely he might expect that she’d try to see his employer again?

She drove over the small bridge and parked in the same place Liam had used four days ago. Four days! She was amazed. Was that really all it was? She grimaced. Sometimes it felt as if she’d been here half her life.

She got out of the car, closing the door with care. No one had come to meet her, and she was curiously loath to announce her arrival in advance. Squaring her shoulders against the squally wind that blew in off the ocean, she crossed the forecourt to the double doors.

There was no bell, but she’d hardly expected one. Knights of old hadn’t needed such things. In the books she’d read, the knight’s lady would be watching for her spouse from one of the narrow windows in the solar, or perhaps a vigilant guard would warn of a stranger’s arrival. The portcullis would be lowered to protect those within the castle—

‘Miss Chantry!’

Rosa had been so absorbed with her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the door being opened. But now the housekeeper stood there, regarding her with obvious surprise.

‘Oh, Mrs Wilson.’ Rosa knew she should have been better prepared for this encounter. ‘Um—how are you?’

‘I’m very well, thank you.’ The woman cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. ‘Is there something I can help you with, Miss Chantry?’

‘I hope so, yes.’ Rosa smiled. ‘Is—er—is Mr Jameson about?’

It was a stupid question. Rosa knew that as soon as the words left her lips. Where else would he be?

‘Mr Jameson?’

The housekeeper sounded doubtful, and she hurried on, ‘Yes. I mean, is he working this morning? Or could I have a quick word with him?’

‘Oh, I—’ Once again Mrs Wilson looked back over her shoulder. ‘I’m afraid that’s not a question I can answer, Miss Chantry.’ She hesitated, and then went on, ‘You’d have to ask Mr Devlin.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll get him for you.’

‘No, I—’

Rosa started to say Sam Devlin was the last person she wanted to see, but it was too late. The woman had already turned and hurried away, leaving Rosa to cool her heels on the doorstep like some pushy double-glazing saleswoman.

She could have invited her inside, Rosa thought, disheartened. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been inside the castle before. For heaven’s sake, she’d spent a night here. Why was she being treated like an intruder?

Because that was what she was, she’d decided, when she heard Sam Devlin’s footsteps crossing the hall. She’d just nudged under the overhang, in a rather fruitless attempt to keep dry, but she stepped aback almost instinctively when the man appeared.

However, Sam was surprisingly more charitable than the housekeeper. ‘Och, come away inside, Miss Chantry,’ he exclaimed, stepping back to allow her to enter the huge hall. ‘It’s a wretched morning, to be sure. You’ll be wishing this storm would ease, no doubt. I dare say you’re eager to get back to the mainland?’

‘Yes.’ Rosa had little option other than to agree. ‘Um, I’m sorry to trouble you again, but I still haven’t spoken to Mr Jameson.’ She paused, and then went on rather recklessly, ‘You did give him my message, didn’t you?’

‘What message would that be, Miss Chantry?’

Rosa sighed. She should have known his charity wouldn’t stretch that far. ‘Well, that I wanted to speak to him again,’ she said stiffly. ‘If the ferry hadn’t been delayed, I’d be gone by now.’

‘So you would.’ Sam regarded her consideringly as he closed the heavy door. ‘But, contrary to what you believe, Miss Chantry, I did tell Mr Jameson what you’d said.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ Rosa felt foolish now, and her face burned with sudden colour. ‘What you mean is, Mr Jameson didn’t want to speak to me, is that right?’ She swallowed her humiliation. ‘Well, that’s all right. I realise now I shouldn’t have bothered him.’ She turned back to the door. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘Wait!’ As she fumbled with the latch, Sam spoke again. ‘Look, Miss Chantry,’ he said, and now he sounded a little embarrassed, ‘I didn’t mean to imply that Liam had refused to speak to you. As a matter of fact I don’t know what he might have done if—if…’ He hesitated, as if he didn’t want to go on, but courtesy demanded it. ‘If he’d been able,’ he finished at last. Then, after another pause, ‘He—er—he hasn’t been too well since you left on Tuesday. And that’s the truth.’

Rosa was dismayed at the effect his words had on her. ‘Is it his leg?’ she asked, realising she was stepping onto unknown ground, but anxious enough to take the risk. She linked her cold fingers, pressing them at right angles to her chest. ‘Please—tell me.’

Sam frowned. ‘You know about his injuries?’ he asked warily, but Rosa wasn’t brave enough to claim that.

‘Just—just that he seems to be troubled at times,’ she admitted, shifting from one foot to the other. She stared at him. ‘Doesn’t he?’

‘Perhaps.’ Sam was noncommittal. ‘But as it happens he got soaked when he was out with the dogs on Tuesday afternoon, and since then he hasn’t felt very sociable.’

‘You mean he got a chill?’

Sam was evidently unhappy talking about his employer behind his back. ‘Something like that,’ he admitted at last. ‘As you’ve learned to your cost, the weather here can be unpredictable.’

‘You don’t mean it developed into pneumonia?’ exclaimed Rosa, aghast, and Sam gave a helpless shake of his head.

‘Och, no,’ he said half impatiently. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Just a—nasty cold, is all.’ He paused, and then added ruefully, ‘Liam’s no’ a good patient, Miss Chantry.’

‘Do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?’

The unexpected sound of Liam’s voice caused them both to start in alarm, and Sam instantly looked as guilty as hell. ‘God, man,’ he protested in a shaken voice. ‘Do you have to scare us half to death? I didn’t hear you.’

‘Obviously not.’ Liam left his position at the foot of the tower stairs and walked heavily towards them. He noticed that Rosa was looking as if he was the last person she’d expected to see, and that annoyed the hell out of him. This was his house, dammit. Who had she expected to see? ‘What’s happening?’

Rosa gazed at him in total confusion. After what Sam had been saying, she’d imagined Liam weak and vulnerable, worn out by coughing and sneezing and blowing his nose.

But the reality was much different. In his usual tight jeans, the fabric worn almost white in places she wasn’t supposed to look, and a long-sleeved silk shirt, the colour of which exactly matched his eyes, he looked darkly disturbing—and just as dangerous as Luther Killian, she was sure.

‘Miss Chantry—’ began Sam, but Rosa knew she couldn’t allow the older man to take the blame for her intrusion.

‘I came to see you,’ she broke in quickly, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. ‘Mr Devlin was just telling me that—that you hadn’t been well.’

‘I just told her you had a cold,’ exclaimed Sam swiftly, and Rosa wondered at the look that passed between the two men at that moment. ‘That’s all.’

‘Yeah.’ Liam accepted his explanation. Whatever faults he might have, Sam was excessively loyal. He wouldn’t talk about Liam’s private affairs with anyone.

He returned his gaze to Rosa, noticing that she was shivering now. But whether that was because she was only wearing a light jacket or because he’d frightened her, he couldn’t be sure. ‘Well, Miss Chantry,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You’d better come with me.’

Rosa’s eyes were wide and anxious. ‘All right,’ she said, giving Sam a grateful look. ‘Thanks for your help, Mr Devlin.’

Sam stiffened. ‘It was my pleasure, Miss Chantry,’ he insisted. Then, as she started after Liam, ‘Will you be wanting a lift later?’

‘Oh, no.’ Rosa gave him a tight smile. ‘I borrowed Mrs Ferguson’s car. But thanks, anyway.’

Sam nodded, then, addressing himself to his employer, he added, ‘Will I ask Mrs Wilson to bring coffee?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ agreed Liam, and Sam gave her another searching look before disappearing through a door below the tapestries at the side of the hall.

‘You’ve made a conquest,’ remarked Liam drily, gesturing for her to precede him up the stairs, and she frowned.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I do. Sam’s not usually so talkative, believe me. Not with women, anyway.’

Rosa shook her head, starting up the stairs. Following her, Liam was intensely aware of the rounded curve of her bottom swaying with every step she climbed. She might be slim, but she was shapely, her legs long and graceful beneath the close-fitting woollen pants she was wearing.

He also noticed that she’d attempted to pile her glorious hair into a knot on top of her head this morning. But, as usual, the wind and rain had hampered her efforts. Already strands of dark red silk coiled seductively on the shoulders of her jacket, and he was tempted to pick one up and allow it to curl about his fingers.

But he refused to go there. The end result of such an action was not one he wanted to explore, however appealing his own satisfaction might be. Besides, although he was fairly sure she’d been a willing recipient of his attentions earlier in the week, once she’d seen the ugly scars that marred his body she’d probably run as fast as Kayla had done.

Rosa, meanwhile, hearing the sudden hoarseness of his breathing, decided that Sam hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her Liam had had a cold. He sounded as if he was struggling for breath, and she felt ashamed for doubting him.

They reached the top of the stairs at last, and Liam went ahead along the narrow landing. They passed several doors, including the library and the dining hall that Rosa remembered from her previous visit, and stopped before a door at the end of the hall.

It opened into a large living room. Because of the lowering skies, lamps had been lit on tables and cabinets, several tall uplighters adding illumination to a room that was both beautiful and homely.

A pair of plush suede sofas flanked the carved façade of the fireplace, and bookshelves filled with novels and magazines filled the space beneath the long windows. Raw silk curtains, in the same warm caramel colour as the sofas, were drawn back to display the fury of the storm outside, but Rosa guessed that in fine weather the view would be breathtaking.

Underfoot, a huge Turkish rug in shades of blue and green complemented the heavy-textured wall coverings, which reminded her they were in a castle, not a millionaire’s mansion. Though the distinction escaped her.

‘Go ahead,’ said Liam, stepping back to allow her to enter, and Rosa hesitated.

‘My shoes are damp,’ she murmured, glancing down, and Liam arched sardonic brows.

‘I can see that,’ he said with a shrug. ‘So take them off.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Why would I mind?’ Liam queried mockingly. ‘Take off anything you like.’ He paused, aware that she was looking at him warily now, before adding smoothly, ‘Your jacket? It’s wet, too.’